“I have to say it, sisters. C’ndee completely got it.” I pointed my parasol at the room’s four corners. “This place looks amazing.”

Mama stood and did a model’s twirl. “And how about me? Not bad for an old lady of sixty, right?”

“Sixty-two,” Maddie corrected, and then flinched as Marty kicked her under the table.

“You look beautiful, Mama.” Marty placated. “Not a day over fifty.”

Mama lovingly cradled one of Marty’s ringlets. “Now, that’s how you make your mama’s day, girls.”

She glanced at her watch. “Sal should be here any minute, with Teensy. I have to run back to the office and hide.”

She held up her empty glass. “Wonder if I could get just a splash more of that wine?”

My sisters and I exchanged looks. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Mama. Remember, that dress has a four-foot train,” I said. “You don’t want to stumble and end up flat on your face.”

She shuddered. “I’d never live it down. Your Aunt Ida is just itching for something gossip-worthy to happen. Well, she won’t find a thing. This day will be perfect. My wedding will be perfect.”

Moments later, Teensy skittered into the hall. He gave an excited yelp when he spotted Mama, and vice-versa. “My stars and garters, girls, Sal’s here!”

She jumped to her feet. “Mace! Help me with my train. Maddie! Run out and tell him not to come in yet. Marty! Scoop up Teensy and follow me into the office. I don’t want that dog wandering around and lifting a leg on one of the silk trees. They’re rentals.”

We rushed around, trying to obey Mama’s orders, which she continued barking out like a four-star general. On second thought, maybe the woman could use a little more wine.

_____

Mama’s white-suited groom looked a little green. He swallowed, took a deep breath, and pulled out his handkerchief for the fourth or fifth time to mop his brow.

The audience was seated. The members of the bridal troupe were amassed on stage, waiting for the featured player’s big entrance. In addition to the three of us in our hideous ruffles, Sal’s younger brother and two golf buddies stood up for him. They looked like extras from the double-wedding scene in Gone with the Wind. I’d finally broken down and watched it, since Mama would give me no peace until I did. I’m embarrassed to admit I cried when Rhett left Scarlett.

Sal wore a white suit and black string tie. Mama had insisted upon it, even though it wasn’t accurate wedding attire from the movie’s historical period. Maybe she’d mixed up Rhett Butler with Col. Sanders from Kentucky Fried Chicken. But considering how she’d been acting all Bridezilla in the weeks leading up to the wedding, none of us wanted to broach the topic.

Now, Sal seemed to be swaying a bit on his feet. “Are you all right?” I asked in a hushed voice.

He nodded weakly. I wasn’t convinced. Seeing the Big Man go down like a pallet of fertilizer before the I do’s would definitely give Aunt Ida something gossip-worthy.

I crooked a finger at C’ndee, who climbed up in a flash to join us on stage. My opinion of her was improving by the moment. Maybe she was brash and loud and a pain in the butt, but she was top-of-the-game when it came to planning and executing a wedding.

“Sal looks like he’s about to toss his lunch,” I whispered. “Why don’t you …”

“Bitters and soda water,” she finished. “And I keep a pocket fan in my purse.”

She was back from the bar in moments, handing him a glass of the stomach-calming drink. On the pretense of straightening Sal’s white rose boutonniere, she stood in front of him and whipped out a battery powered fan. As he downed the drink, she aimed the cooling draft into his face.

Just as the music minister from Abundant Forgiveness struck the first note on his electric organ, C’ndee stepped off the stage. Sal’s green was nearly gone as he stooped and called out to Teensy, as rehearsed. The little dog tottered down the aisle, satin top hat slightly askew.

“C’mere, boy!”

Teensy launched himself straight into Sal’s arms. The wedding guests oohed and aahed. Untying the wedding rings from a white ribbon on the dog’s celadon-colored saddle, Sal held them up for all to see. Laughter and applause rippled through the hall. Even Maddie wore a big smile.

“Teensy’s a hit,” Marty whispered.

I nodded. “Having him as the ring bearer wasn’t as idiotic as I thought.”

Next came the flower girl, D’Vora’s four-year-old, L’Donna. She scattered white rose petals by the fistful, tossing them so energetically that some of the guests in aisle seats ducked. A constellation of camera flashes captured the adorable sight.

And then, the processional music fell silent. A hush came over the crowd. There was a dramatic pause. Just as Mama entered the hall, the familiar strains of “Here Comes the Bride” resounded. Heads turned. A collective gasp ensued. People stood and craned their necks to get a better view.

Mama looked like a fairy tale princess. And if her prince was a fast-talking, three-hundred-pound tough guy from the Bronx, so what? The moment was perfect. Until Aunt Ida hissed to her son from the second row: “You did not tell me Rosalee intended to wear white, Henry. That takes some nerve.”

There were snickers, amid a shush or two. Mama bobbled the slightest bit. Sal blew her a kiss, covering a burp at the same time. Then she threw back her shoulders, held her veiled head high, and climbed the steps to the stage.

“Ida’s going to pay for that,” Maddie said between clenched teeth.

“I might toss the witch into a vat of potato salad myself,” Marty vowed under her breath.

But there’d be no potato salad at Mama’s wedding. C’ndee put together a menu of fingerling potatoes and roasted asparagus to go with the prime rib. Very classy! Of course, Mama insisted that fried catfish with hush puppies be the alternative selection to red meat. We weren’t going to stray too far from our Himmarshee roots.

The music ended. The Reverend Delilah started in with preaching. Mercifully, she was moving right along, holding to her promise to keep the service short. My feet already felt like somebody cut them in half with a circular saw and stuffed them into two lime-green sausage casings. Trying to distract myself from excruciating high-heel pain, I looked out into the crowd.

I saw Linda-Ann, looking pretty in a hot pink dress. Where was Trevor? Rabe sat beside Linda-Ann. He’d changed out of his overalls, and cleaned up surprisingly well. His stepfather, Darryl, was nowhere in sight. Just before Delilah got to the vows, Alice Hodges slipped in near the rear of the hall, wearing pink pastel. I nudged each of my sisters with an elbow.

“Pssst, look at Alice.”

“Wow!” Marty breathed.

“Like a new woman,” Maddie agreed.

Glaring at us from a chair at the side wall, C’ndee lifted a scolding finger to her lips.

I returned my attention to the ceremony, and heard Delilah wrapping up with a verse from Ephesians: “And be ye kind to one another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another …”

Then it was Sal’s turn to recite the lines he’d been rehearsing for weeks:

Rosalee, I knew from the second I saw you I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. You inspire me. You challenge me to be the best man I can be. I promise to love you forever, to respect you and honor you. This is my solemn vow.

His Bronx honk was so loud, a few guests put discreet fingers to their ears. We suspected he downloaded his vows off the Internet, but that didn’t lessen my appreciation of his enthusiasm.

Next, it was Mama’s turn:

Sal, you make me feel special. You treat me like gold. And, best of all, you put up with me. She was interrupted here by knowing chuckles. You’ve embraced my friends and family, and my hometown. You even love Teensy—the dog barked as he heard his name, eliciting more laughter. I promise to cherish you eternally, to love, honor and respect you. This is my solemn vow.